Just a note: If you don't like it, please don't bother reading it.
& thanks to those that do read this story, I greatly appreciate it.
She sits in Amelia Shepherd's office - their hideout, and ponders over her situation. The office is empty, and vaguely smells of Amelia, though she hasn't really figured out what kind of scent the neurosurgeon has.
Arizona has two immediate objectives: figure out a way to possibly save April's baby, and fix Herman's brain tumor.
The latter seems to be going well in terms of research, but the former isn't doing too well. Jackson was enraged, nervous, and frantic, while April simply broke down. She remembers it all too well.
Fix it! You need to fix it!
She needs to fix too many things, she thinks.
But Herman could fix that far better than she ever could. Only, she's dying. Amelia has figured out a way to remove Herman's tumor. But it will be extensive. It will be incognito. No one knows. It's too complicated.
And she hasn't told Herman yet.
She hasn't told anyone.
It's just her secret. With Amelia. Like their hideout. Established solely for this reason.
Callie slept with someone else. She cared for a while, and she still does sometimes, but ultimately, it doesn't matter very much. She realizes this. Why should it? Why should she be sad and alone while Callie isn't? Callie is rediscovering herself.
She is, too.
Callie is not on her mind much.
There are too many things left to occupy her mind.
She needs to tell Herman, too.
Frustrated, she kicks a box carelessly placed on the floor next to Amelia's computer. Why does the office suddenly have so many more boxes? She ponders over this, and decides to kick the box harder this time, but with her prosthetic leg so she doesn't damage it. She doesn't want to do damage.
She's all about damage control.
She hasn't seen Amelia in a while. A few days. The last time she saw her, she kept her back towards her as she inquired about her feelings, and she only gave her cold words in return.
She kicks it again - staccato thumps. It becomes more of a tapping. A translation of her pondering and idleness. The room is silent and the computer's hard drive only continues to buzz.
She wants the perfect silence in exchange for this unsettling one. The silence of another in her company, another in her presence. Amelia.
She needs to talk to Amelia.
Where is Amelia?
Did she not want to be around her anymore? Was she too cold? Too closed?
Too much?
Maybe it's the way she stares. Most times, she finds herself staring. She looks away when Amelia does it first, but she finds herself staring even more now. But she only does it because she likes Amelia's smile. And her suggestive grins. And her winks. And that smug look she gets sometimes.
Maybe she shouldn't look at her so much - so intently, as though she's searching for something. Is she? Maybe she is. There is more behind those hazel eyes, she thinks, more behind that gleeful grin.
She just wants to know about her, that's all.
She likes being her friend.
She checks her phone and looks at her messages to Amelia.
The last one from the neurosurgeon says: I guess I don't want to pry, but text me if you want to talk. Okay?
She never did reply. She kept silent. She was frustrated then, but she's okay now.
Maybe the silence they share isn't a good thing, after all.
She looks at the box again, her foot has stilled against it. The fragility of it reminds her of the boxes she has stacked in the guest room at Callie's house. Her house. Their house. Whatever, she thinks.
She looks at her phone again and sends a message to Amelia.
Hey. Are you around? I need some help moving stuff.
But she receives no reply.
She is done for the day. Herman is out and Graham is still busy with his own rounds. As stupid as he may seem, he can be reliable when necessary.
Callie is still in surgery. She can move boxes now.
Exiting the hospital, she decides to phone Amelia.
It rings twice before she picks up. There is stifled giggling accompanied with a strange drone in the background. She hears something fall and sheets being ruffled. A creaking of a bed she vaguely recalls.
There is more muffled murmuring before she hears, "Hello?"
"Hey, Amelia."
"Arizona!" she hears. It sounds excited, yet somehow forced. Exaggerated. Unprepared. "What's up?"
"Where are you?" she asks. She inquires before she can stop herself, before she can remember that it isn't really her business to know where Amelia has gone.
"What?" the neurosurgeon asks as though she's misheard her.
"Where are you? Meredith's?"
She waits for a reply, but the drone of the phone connection already seems hesitant to her ears. "Sorta," Amelia finally answers. "More like… Derek's."
She hears a murmur in the background. The voice is deep and heavy, and seems to disrupt the phone connection. She wants to hang up.
"Did you get my text?"
"I did," Amelia says. She waits before asking, "Move stuff where?"
"From Callie's to Alex's."
She hears a laugh that sounds delightfully dubious. Amelia's laugh. "Get your own place."
"Says you," Arizona quickly rejoins. "Half of that house is mine."
"Then don't call it Callie's," she says simply. There always seems to be reasoning in her tone, as playful as it may appear.
"Whatever," the blonde grumbles, suddenly frustrated with the conversation. "Are you going to help me or not?"
"Yep," Amelia says, and her voice is suddenly light and free, and almost harmonic to her ears. She likes that voice. Its slyness, its exuberance. "Meet you there? Text me the address."
Arizona hears a groan of protest as Amelia says this, and it seems to come from the background. It's the same deep, hard voice from before.
"Yeah, sure," she says, and she hangs up before Amelia can say anything else.
She stands there outside of the hospital, her neck suddenly cold from the strong wind of the usually pleasant city.
She's interrupted something.
"Your house is cute," Amelia grins at her as she steps out of her car. She shuts the door and narrows her eyes at the brunette's smugness, keys jingling in her hand.
"You got here fast."
"Yeah, I was getting ready to leave anyway."
She doesn't want to ask from where, so she walks past the younger Shepherd and opens the lock to the door. The knob seems flimsy as she goes to turn it, and she steps inside.
It feels foreign.
"This is weird," she suddenly determines. "Maybe I shouldn't have come here."
"What?" Amelia asks, perplexed. "Why?"
"I just," Arizona starts, "I just haven't been here in a while." She stands there and feels uncertain, unwilling to take a step forward. She hears a heavy sigh behind her, but does nothing.
She suddenly wants to turn around and leave, but she is silenced by a sudden pull of her arm. The door slams shut behind her and the arm around her own tightens and pulls her forward.
It feels warm and confident in its refusal to let go.
"Come on, do I need to walk you?" Amelia asks, her voice hard. "Pull you?" She asks again, her hand wrapping around Arizona's upper arm. Her fingers only graze the fabric of her coat, but Arizona can feel the warmth of her fingertips, the careful consideration behind them. She seems suddenly frustrated. "What will it take you to step inside?"
"What-"
"Where's your room, then?" Amelia decidedly queries. "I'll just pull you there."
"Amelia-" Arizona warns.
"Shut up," the brunette retorts. Arizona looks into her eyes - they are livid and bright, and seemingly tired of something.
"Okay," Arizona says. Amelia doesn't loosen her grip, though, and Arizona proceeds forward and into the guest room.
They say nothing as they step inside, and Arizona feels the coldness of the room. It seems untouched, unopened, and hardly entered. A junk room.
There are mostly clothes in piles scattered across the bed and boxes aligned on the floors. Sofia's and Callie's. There aren't many boxes, though, and Amelia seems surprised.
"Just these?" Amelia asks, her eyes falling on the boxes.
"Yeah."
She laughs, "You just needed help with this?"
Arizona laughs right back at her, her voice feels lighter now. She feels Amelia's grip on her arm grow tighter. "I needed help with a lot more than this."
They are sitting on the floor of her room at Alex's house, boxes scattered around them as they share drinks and snacks. Arizona has a beer while Amelia settles for flavored sparkling water. They use the boxes as makeshift pillows and lean against the hard surface.
They mostly giggle over hospital gossip and strange staff behaviors, but then Arizona decides to mention that Owen wasn't in today, either.
"Yeah, I was with him," Amelia informs her.
Arizona feels uneasy, "Oh, no wonder." She doesn't know what to say.
Hazel eyes watch her carefully before telling her, "I slept with Owen." Her voice comes out harder, and even she seems surprised by it.
"Oh," she says it almost too fast. Amelia's gaze doesn't fall. She seems to be searching for something in her eyes, so the blonde looks down at the snacks on the floor, carefully surveying the crackers laid out.
"I was with him yesterday, too."
"How was it?" Arizona asks, her eyes still perusing the state of the crackers.
"Okay," the neurosurgeon says, "I mean, he's nice."
She picks a cracker, and takes a bite as Amelia continues to watch her. She swallows hard. It feels rocky in her throat. She drinks her beer.
"Yeah," Arizona agrees.
"I don't think we're a thing, though," Amelia says, her own eyes drawn to the crackers now. She picks one up, carefully watches it, and looks back at Arizona. "Not exclusive, I mean."
"Oh?"
"Yep," she smiles now, and takes a bite of the cracker while she watches her.
But Arizona only stands up and turns around, flipping the cover open to the box she was just leaning against.
"I should get unpacking."
When Amelia leaves, Arizona watches her retreating form until she gets into her car. When she drives away, she shuts the front door quietly and leans her head against it, feeling flushed and slightly annoyed.
"You two have a fight cus she's banging Owen?" she hears.
"Shut up, Alex."
"I mean, if you want to bang her, just tell her you want to bang her."
"I don't want to bang her."
"Yeah, okay," he says in disbelief, a beer in his hand as he leans against the wall, narrowing his eyes at her.
"What?"
"Have you seen the way you stare at each other? Like, from an outsider's view?"
"No," Arizona says, "And I don't want to. We're just working on a case together."
"Uh, so?"
"So we share a secret."
"Like, I secretly want to bang you?"
"Will you stop?"
"I'm just saying," he shrugs, "she is hot."
Arizona clasps her hands behind her back and leans back against the front door, watching Alex grin smugly at her. Her heart feels light again, and seems to resound in her ears as she thinks back to that searching gaze.
"She is," Arizona agrees.